Classic Poem

I remember when first we met;
I think I shall never forget
The drawing-room in its curtained gloom,
The amber-curtained drawing-room,

Which set you round like a frame of gold,
As out of the December cold
You hurried in, with your bright blond skin,
A splendid color from cheek to chin.

And, sitting down by my cousin Jane,
You sipped the foam from the pink champagne,
While over the wine the shimmer and shine
Of your strange eyes kept haunting mine.

You talked to her, but you looked at me;
Such a curious gaze, — what did you see,
What did you trace within my face,
As you drank and talked with that smiling grace?

Always that nonchalant smiling grace,
Always a mask drawn over the face,
Always a look as if within
You guarded a secret sorrow or sin.